Utopia?
by After The Lights
Summary: The Eternal Calm was meant to transform Spira, creating a perfect society. So why then, 10 years later, has life become worse? Some people try to escape, but it isn't long before the Underground groups, and the government, are trying to hunt them down.


_**Disclaimer -**_** I do not own Final Fantasy X, any of it's characters or anything to do with Square-Enix. If I did, I certainly wouldn't be on here writing about them. **

So I'm back with a new story, and if you've read my other fic, _Hear No Secrets, Tell No Lies_, you're probably thinking, what the heck is she doing starting a new story when she barely manages to update her other one? To be honest, I've been asking myself the same question but I've decided to upload this because i have a ton of exams coming up and so everything I do outside of school is currently being put on hold. Also, this has been written up for a while and it's been bugging me to be published, so I thought, why not? It's very different to my other fic but I like it and think it's pretty good and I hope you do too. Enjoy. _Jess X_

**Utopia? **

**Prologue **

_Tidus_

Droplets of sweat trickle down the back of my neck in the harsh glare of the midsummer sun, my feet thumping along the ground with such force that dust clouds appear on the pitiful excuse for a road. My pulse is throbbing, echoing in my ears and with every beat, every slap as my feet hit it, the ground screams, "Run Tidus! Run! Don't look back! Just run!"

There is no real point in looking back; I know only too well what I'll see. A swarm of Imperial Guards is chasing me, hunting me down, and if they mange to finally catch up, they'll swoop down on me like vultures who've spotted a new carcass. I don't bother swivelling my head round to sneak a glance at the enemy. Instead, I focus on sprinting through the lower level Bevellian streets, overlooking the hazy faces of other civilians as they rush past in a blur. All their eyes and mouths form three perfect Os, frozen in fear because I scream thief, or worse, traitor.

I take the next corner swiftly, but manage to swing back too far and skid slightly, causing a miniature sandstorm to all but erupt. It's good I guess, for the guards can't see me through the dusty smog, but my eyes are stinging and my throat has been painted with what feels like most of the sand dunes of Bikanel Island. Coughing and desperately trying not to choke, I stagger onwards, heading lower and lower into the city, the Imperial District far behind me.

The Guard don't like the lower levels much, especially on a swelteringly hot day like today, when the stench from the half open sewers that cut through the streets is dangerously close to being unbearable. I like them though. The lower rungs of the ladder is where Bevelle really flourishes, where it comes to life, where the real people live. They don't give a shit about what you think of them, and unless you manage to seriously piss them off, they don't care much for you either. The penultimate layers, the slums, is where all the action is, the locations of al the people planning the downf-

The near simultaneous click of several gun barrels being reloaded invades my mind, kicking my thoughts of the slums into the grime of the streets, where many say they belong. Hearing the increasingly closer storm of guards, my brain almost unconsciously boots my body into overdrive, my pace improving rapidly. I tear along many more pathways, knowing that sooner or later I will cross the invisible barrier into the darkest depths of the city, where many of the slum-dwellers, let alone the guards, rarely venture into.

I streak past a young women and her son, who she yanks away hastily as I speed by. I feel like laughing. Of course she'll pull her child away from the unarmed seventeen year old running through the neighbourhood, but when the guards hurry past she'll gladly urge him to move nearer so he can salute them, shiny new pistols and all. Sometimes, Bevelle is so twisted that I often wonder if I actually dreamed up it's existence myself. According to my former comrades, my head is certainly warped enough for the task.

The reverie of those past days blocks my vision, and my feet are somehow able to guide me subconsciously into the city's cheapest bazaar, the one with the reputation for selling more than just food and trinkets. Dodging between the stalls I begin to struggle to breathe, a stitch in my side having only just made itself known to me. A nearby empty stall beckons and I stumble towards it and collapse onto the sun baked ground. I have unwillingly initiated a game of hide and seek, and I know it's only too long before I will be discovered. Still with the heat getting to me, I close my eyes and repeat to myself the most ridiculous of my childhood mantras, "If I can't see it, it can't see me."

And some people still wonder why it never works.

"Gotcha!" sneers a cruel voice, and my eyes instantly flick open to be greeted by the hideous face of a middle aged guardsman. He reaches out for me but I get there first, leaping to my feet and smacking him in the face with my right fist, sending him backwards into a pile of barrels.

The racket alerts the others and I'm once again running madly, this time daring or stupid enough to turn around briefly. Sure enough, a dozen guards are on my tail, armed, locked and loaded. If the twelve of them shared a fair amount of brain cells between them I'd be worried, but seeing as that is not the case there is no need to panic, so I continue to hurry along the road that I know is here.

But it isn't.

I slide to an abrupt halt and I'm now in the precarious position of being stuck between a dozen dumb Imperial Guards, and an at least one hundred feet drop into the murky waters below. It is not a hard decision to make.

I wink at the guards, give them a blast of my trademark, "See ya!", and to their astonishment I step backwards, sprint and then become one of the birds, dancing effortlessly through the sky.

However, there is the slight problem that I am a novice when it comes to flying, and no sooner have I flung myself from the road's end, I am falling.

Plummeting, spiralling, hurtling towards near imminent death, I whoop and cheer, because it just feels so darn good. And no, I'm not scared. My old man may have won world's crappiest Dad award in my opinion, but he did teach me some things, and one of them was how to do a perfect dive.

His arrogant voice ringing in my ears, I embrace the freefall, relishing in the adrenaline rush, preparing for impact. The world whizzes by, I get into position, and suddenly the air melts into water, and I'm warm and wet.

And then, the world is black.

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**AN** - So this fic will be continued but it's likely that updates won't be until July at the earliest. I don't think I need to explain much in terms of the plot, but yes, this story is slightly AU. Anyways, reviews are really, really appreciated. Thanks for reading.


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